Revolver
by intallah
Summary: Pein/Konan-she was his favourite, he never forgot.


_Pein and Konan. The characters belong to Kishimoto, obviously. Contains sexuality and a smidgen of violence. This was written before Konan's name was revealed, so she is never referred to by name._

**Revolver**

She was surrounded by death when he approached her, her face coolly smug and clothing immaculate. The only evidence of violence on her was the blood that coated her hands and smudged her cheeks. She turned slowly to face him, adjusting an unseen weapon behind her back. Her arms were lean with muscle and long scratches ran the length of pale skin.

"You have some very special talents." He had spoken the words so many times they had begun to lose meaning. He felt like he should say something more to her, or something different. Something to mark this occasion, the only time he had ever been truly impressed with another human being. She raised an eyebrow, heavily lidded eyes betraying some sort of emotion…was she amused?

"You certainly don't need to tell me that." She brought her hands to her front and they were empty. Pein glanced around her surreptitiously for a weapon, but her clothing didn't seem to be concealing anything. She coughed slightly (maybe laughed), and he swung his head back around, "Are you trying to hit on me or something? Because if you are you've got balls." She had perfected a haughty, emotionless tone of voice. Remarkable.

"No, of course not." Pein said smoothly, not even thinking to be affronted, "I would like you to consider joining an organization."

"I work for myself."

"I think I can interest you."

"You personally?"

She darted forward so that she was eye-to-eye with Pein, nose almost touching his. "I am about to kill you." She whispered, and her breath was hot against his lips, "I will give you one second to run." She held up a finger, and then bent it down slowly.

Pein snatched her neck, spun around and pressed a concealed knife to her throat. She was still and silent, breathing against the metal. "Just listen," Pein hissed into her ear, "I will make it quick."

She listened, body shifting restlessly against his, and he did make it quick (one has to, after all, when recruiting unstable geniuses for one's evil organization). When he was done she turned slowly to face him.

"I could have gotten out of this." She said, "Do not underestimate me. You could be dead right now. But your organization may give me something interesting to do. Partners, you say?"

Faces flashed through Pein's mind seamlessly; Sasori, Kakuzu, Kisame. No, she would have to be his, his only. "You will be mine."

She found her way out of his arms and stepped back to face him, bending her knees, long-fingered hands tensed into claws, "Let's see what you got."

- - - - - - - - - - -

She had killed the man with her bare hands; snapped his neck while he was flirting with her. Pein doubted that the poor fellow had even known what hit him. She eyed the slumped corpse for a moment, unimpressed.

"Some target." She said passively, "What kind of mission was this?"

She met Pein's eyes for a moment and answered before he could open his mouth-"A test." Pein raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"Hm. Fair enough." She kicked at the dead man half-heartedly and bent over, extracting a flower from his pocket. She handed it to Pein; "Recon."

He examined the flower, turning over the worn white petals in his gloved hands. He handed it back to her, "Welcome to Akatsuki."

The corners of her mouth twitched.

- - - - - - - - - - -

He learned about her slowly, as if she was an oil painting that would only look like blotches and squiggles until you stepped back and saw the image.

But the clues she left him made him want more. Every whisper of the murders she had committed, the men she had slept with, the parents she had abandoned, made him want to know every little thing about her.

But she was the one person he couldn't demand things from. So he waited.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Volatile." She said softly, unclasping her cloak and placing it on a chair in their shared room.

"Aren't we all?"

"Too volatile." She kicked off her shoes. "He'll go out with a bang."

"He wouldn't want it any other way." Pein didn't avert his eyes as she undressed; admiring the pale, smooth skin of her back, the sumptuous curve of her hips. She had no scars, unusual for their field of work. She turned to face him, raising an eyebrow.

"You speak as if they're your pawns."

He stood and walked over to her, reaching out to touch the polished ivory of her collarbone, "We're all pawns." He pressed his fingers against the fortress of her throat. She watched him carefully from under her heavy, painted eyelids.

"Yes, but there's no need to be morbid about it." She took his wrist and pulled his hand away, letting her fingers glide over his as she let go.

They were silent as she dressed and she ignored his eyes that combed her body for beauty over and over again.

When she was done she sat on her bed, facing him, "He's your favorite, isn't he?"

"You're my favorite."

- - - - - - - - - - -

"I don't know how you expect him to function without Sasori." Her eyes caught his, harsh as any slap.

"He will have to." Pein's voice was clipped, betraying his anger at the loss of one of his oldest members. "That's all."

She shook her head and the flower shifted with the movement, never coming free, "Just wait, I'll be right. I always am."

- - - - - - - - - - -

He had a fixation on her neck, the impenetrable white column. It was thin, thinner than most. And yet, something that should have been so easy to snap, to tear, to stab, seemed to be her greatest strength. She held it like a weapon, and touching it was almost unbearable in its intimacy.

She let him. He knew that when she finally didn't snatch his hand away she meant it. There was something in her eyes when his hands found her throat, treating it as something breakable, something that told him that she trusted him-finally, she trusted him.

His hands were slow over her body, painfully, achingly slow, because he knew that if he let them go fast he would never be able to stop. She was motionless and cold, like a statue, eyes smoldering at him. But he would change that.

He started with her face, running long fingers over her heavy eyelids, sharp cheekbones, stained lips. She was a dazzling hawk, and he wanted to savor her. His subordinates may have forsaken humanity in pursuit of immortality and infamy, but he has not forgotten the thrill of skin against skin, and a beautiful face. Perhaps that is why he led them, rather than one who has forgotten how to live.

His fingers closed over her throat, briefly and gently so as not to alarm. He could never be rough with her. It's not that he thought she might break, just that he needed her trust. No pain. No fear. She was like a wild animal, one that would only come to him if he were slow and sure.

She breathed slowly and evenly as his fingers glided over her throat, down into the hard smoothness of her collarbone. Her eyes did not change. There was something on fire there, watching him intensely. But the rest of her was quiet and still.

"You must want this a little bit." The words slipped out before he could stop them. She only pursed her lips. He kissed them as if he was kissing something sacred. She didn't reply and he only continued touching her, slipping his hands beneath her clothes to feel the soft, untouched skin of her breasts. She shifted under his hands, moving for the first time. He flicked his fingers over her chest and she inhaled sharply. "So you do feel," he whispered to her. She turned her head to meet his eyes, a hazy flush creeping into her cheeks.

"I…never said it was…bad to…feel." Her breath came in sharp bursts as he lowered his face to her chest, lifting her shirt. He ran his tongue over the top of her breasts slowly, experimentally. He raised his head, slipping his hands beneath the waistband of her shorts.

"You did not endorse it." He took her nipple into his mouth and she arched her back against the hard mattress, knees coming up to wrap around his waist. He gasped at the sudden embrace and a wave of arousal crashed up against him; it was all he could do not to tear her clothes off, bite at her neck, claw at that flawless skin.

He yanked at her shorts, pulling them past her thighs and she made a small noise in the back of her throat when his fingers found the juncture between her legs. Her legs jerked apart and the tear of fabric echoed vaguely in his ears, drowned out by the rush of his own pleasure.

He felt the thin veneer of brutal professionalism they had built crash and fall around him as entered her, lips pressed against her hot neck and cries bitten back. Her chest rose and fell rapidly under his hands as he pushed into her, again and again. Everything that they had ever said to each other roared and resonated in their minds, drowned in passion and sweat.

She cried out as she came and the statue was gone, replaced by a girl with a flushed face and hair strewn over the pillow. He bit down on her shoulder as he pulled out of her, but she didn't seem to notice. They only lay for a couple minutes as their bodies cooled and their breathing slowed.

"Any good?" His words were sluggish, he didn't want to ruin the strange new spell they had cast, but his pragmatic side simply had to know what she was thinking.

She turned her head, eyes dark and unreadable and her voice was a rasp when it came from between bruised lips, "Poetry in motion, to one less jaded than myself." She stood, letting the ruined pieces of fabric fall from her body, and walked into the bathroom, leaving Pein to contemplate her cryptic answer late into the night.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"You want me to find him?" Her voice was flat and she crossed her arms in front of her bare body, "Put your clothes on, Pein."

He could have refused, but he didn't. He dressed quickly and turned back to her. She was watching him stonily.

"I need you to do it." He fought to keep his voice even, fought to keep his temper.

"Give me a reason."

"You don't need one."

"Don't put words in my mouth. I don't _need_ a reason to dig up some dismembered lunatic? Is that what you think?"

"Please. You are the only one with the skills to do it."

"Don't ever flatter me." Her voice was not raised and her face was not flushed. But he could see the anger in her face, as tangible as it would be if she were striking at him. Her eyes challenged him with every glint; her darkened lips were tight around her words.

"It's the truth, that's all."

"Come with me."

"No."

"I'm not going."

The air whistled by him as he moved, fingers closing around her thin throat, her strength and her weakness, "I am your Leader."

He did not see her hit him, did not feel any movement, but suddenly he was thrown back with the force of a fist. Pain filled his head briefly, clouding his vision.

"You have never been my leader." Naked, she snatched up her cloak and drew it around her, "Very well." She said coldly, "I'll try and find him. If I come back empty handed it is _not my fault_."

She left in silence, leaving Pein to wince on the floor. She was strong, he reasoned to himself, but she always followed his orders in the end.

Gingerly he touched his cheek, the place she had struck. It was throbbing lightly, sore to the touch. A reminder.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"If you haven't noticed," She began as he tried to coax the flower from her hair, fingers still shaky from the afterglow of their lovemaking, "Your precious Akatsuki members are dropping like flies."

"You could have gotten Hidan." He yanked the flower free and she glared at him, eyes unsettlingly dark on her pale face.

"No. I told you. He was long gone." He recognized the harsh tone of her voice, the way her eyes darted away from his face. She wanted the conversation over.

"We're going out this time." He drew his fingers through her thick hair, resting his hand on her shoulder, bringing his mouth to her breast. She brought her hands to his bare back, tracing the intricate tattoo that ran across his shoulder blades. He nipped at her collarbone and she pulled away from him, hands lingering on his muscled shoulders.

"To avenge precious Deidara?" The words were petulant, something she never was. She didn't hide her jealousy, only dressed it up in a fancy costume and called it contempt.

"Of course not. We're finishing it." Pein said, content with being melodramatic.

"This feels ominous. Think we'll come back alive?"

"Of course we'll come back alive. Akatsuki is nothing without me."

"Us."

"Us."

"Hm. Any last words?"

Pein smiled slowly, eyes flashing sleepily in the dim light.

"It won't be pretty."

_/end_


End file.
